


Something I Need

by Velace



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Because no one wants that, F/F, Fluff, Humour, Mild Language, Or not, So Gay it might actually be Straight
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-15
Updated: 2017-10-13
Packaged: 2018-12-30 07:15:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 17,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12103518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Velace/pseuds/Velace
Summary: Emma becomes the Dark One. Aside from the whole being dumped in the Enchanted Forest, and having to tolerate a mischievous Evil Queen stalking her, she's not entirely sure what the big deal is.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Just a note to let you all know I have been writing. I have, however, not been writing what I should be. I figured I might as well share while I'm being an awful person and procrastinating WL2S.
> 
> FYI, I am aware the Queen is slightly out of character, but there is a reason for that and it's part of the plot, which I actually have this time. Shocking, I know.

Hell isn't some mystical world beneath the earth, Emma has decided. It's green. Green, full of trees. It looks like trees, it smells like trees, it _is_ trees. That's it. That's Hell. Eternal damnation is just another word for the Enchanted Forest, of which she has found herself in, again, because obviously the nightmare of being here once with her mother, and again with Hook, wasn't awful enough.

One might think as the new Dark One, she could just snap her fingers and be anywhere else, but no. All snapping her fingers does is make her look like a deranged idiot. She knows better than to try again. If someone were to come across her, seeing her snapping her fingers and swearing like a sailor- well. As far as she knows, there are no asylums in this world, but there's probably _some_ place for crazy people, and she highly doubts it'll be somewhere nice, assuming it isn't simply a lopping off her head and burying her in an unmarked grave somewhere far away from what constitutes as civilization in an uncivilized world, the peasants terrified her crazy might be contagious.

The fact she's talking and muttering these things to herself probably won't help matters, but she's been wandering for hours and she hasn't found a single soul. She doesn't know if it's a good thing. Maybe someone will find her, maybe they'll surprise her— maybe her powers will manifest then and she'll accidentally set them on fire. Maybe they'd have food and she wouldn't be eying every berry bush she passes with a look of ravenous hunger.

She really should stop jumping to Regina's rescue all the time. After all, she could have been eating one of Granny's burgers if she hadn't sucked up evil incarnate.

Course, then Regina would be the Dark One or worse, dead, and then she'd probably be eating multiple burgers, getting fat as she drowned her sorrows in grease and cheese—beautiful, tasty —maybe slightly salty from all the tears— cheese.

Groaning, she smacks the side of her head. She knew her obsession with food was bad, but she didn't think it was _this_ outrageous. Is this what everyone meant when they kept telling her the Dark One brings out the worst in people? Does she need to accept that for the rest of eternity, all of her thoughts are going to revolve around food?

Gluttony? Is that her sin?

Sighing, she picks one of the thousands of trees surrounding her and leans up against it to give her legs a rest. Soon, it'll be dark and she'll be stuck out here, lost and most likely cold. She doesn't remember much about her previous trips here, but she does remember the cold. Chances are, she's going to freeze to death before she finds anything resembling human life.

She still hasn't figured out what she's going to do or say when, or if, she finds it. What can she say? "Hi, I'm the new Dark One, any chance you know anything about time travel? No? How 'bout world travel? Magic? Anything? Oh fine, point me towards Rumplestiltskin or the Evil Queen, and off with you."

What could possibly go wrong?

Tipping her head back, she glances up at the sky and sighs, pushing from the tree. She'll give it another hour or two, then maybe try the whole magic thing again.

"Moving on so soon?" Startled by the voice, she whips around, instantly transfixed by dark, upturned lips and an even darker gaze. "You only just stopped to rest, dear—" the Queen coos, pouting, "—and you've been walking for such a _long_ time."

Eyes narrowing, Emma questions, "You've been following me?"

"Watching," she corrects with a tilt of the head. "I was curious how long you'd wander the Infinite Forest before giving up."

Infinite Forest? "Well that explains it," Emma drawls. Naturally, Regina would rather watch her go mad than offer anything in the way of help, but she's used to it by now. Turning to leave, she says, "Thanks for the information."

"I could…" She pauses and peers over her shoulder, brow raised. She knows better, especially given the smile, but she waits for the offer, curious. "Transport you out of here?"

"Yeah?" The Queen inclines her head and Emma smirks. "What's the catch?" When confusion contorts her face, she elaborates, "What do you want in return? And where exactly will you transport me to?"

There's a minute hint of surprise in the slight widening of eyes. She'd have missed it were she anyone else. Fortunately, she is likely the one person in any world who knows Regina well enough to catch it.

"That's what I thought," she says, chuckling as she faces forward and begins walking. Infinite Forest or not, better out here than in the Queen's dungeon. She murmurs to herself, "Been there, done that; was not a fan."

 

* * *

 

 

"You are getting wet."

Peeling the hair from her cheek, Emma flicks it over her shoulder. "Really? I hadn't noticed."

It started raining maybe an hour after she left Regina standing in the middle of the forest, staring after her with an expression of confused amusement. She's slightly ashamed to admit she thought it might have been Regina's doing, a way to pay her back for not playing along. She hasn't quite let go of the idea yet— they did cause an eclipse together, so it's not as though weather control is _entirely_ out of the realm of possibilities when it comes to what Regina is capable of on her own.

Seeing her appear as she'd hunched between two trees for cover does have Emma doubting herself. From the earlier surprise, she knows with absolute certainty the Queen _was_ trying to trick her, but perhaps she'd assumed the worst. Regina said she had good days every once in a while— days in which she was more helpful than tricky. She'd seemed more proud of her evil half when she spoke of those moments.

As much as Emma would like to think the best of her intentions, however, she can't. Maybe the Queen truly does want to help, but it also isn't beyond the realm of possibility that she is simply trying to trick her again, thinking her more compliant now that she's in even greater need than before.

"Don't you have a kingdom to run?" Teeth chattering, she wraps her arms around herself and tries to huddle deeper into the brush. "Or s… subjects to harass?"

"So you _do_ know who I am."

"Queen Regina," she supplies, "better known as the Evil Queen, sworn enemy of—" A shiver wracks her frame and Emma clenches her teeth, a little relieved to be cut off when she realizes she was about to utter her mother's name. She recalls the names her Regina occasionally uses for them when annoyed with either, and continues, "—the spoiled Princess and her dim-witted shepherd."

"You know _more_ than who I am," the Queen notes, a hint of steel in her tone. Like fluid, she flows down into what Emma can only think to describe as a regal squat, laughable as it may be, and stares deep into her eyes. "I think it time you tell me who you are, pet."

"A friend." As the scowl paints her face, Emma sighs. "Emma," she concedes. "Former orphan, Sheriff, time traveler, future D—"

"Former orphan?" the Queen interjects, brow raised.

Emma stares at her in disbelief. Of everything she said, _that_ is the one that catches her attention? "It's a long, boring tale," she answers eventually, peering up at the sky as she notes the rain has stopped. Rising, she adds, "I'd tell you it, but I'm not really in the mood for story time."

Regina raises her head. "My offer stands."

Emma chuckles. "As does my reluctance," she replies with a smile. "And my question."

Standing, expression thoughtful, the Queen eyes her a moment, then says, "Your story."

"What?"

"My price," she elaborates, "for helping you."

"Ah." Emma nods. She's heard worse offers, but she wasn't lying when she said she wasn't in the mood. "Maybe some other time, Your Majesty."

"You're going to freeze to death out here," the Queen calls to her as she walks away for the second time.

Smiling, she calls back, "I'll take my chances."

 

* * *

 

 

When Emma was thirteen, she lived with a semi-competent family. They liked to go camping once every two months or so. She tried to tell her mother the story when they were here because Snow kept trying to teach her things she already knew how to do; like starting a fire, or setting up a makeshift shelter using leaves and branches.

In the end, she gave up and let her mother do everything for her because it was easier, but this is what she's doing when the Queen next shows up. It's been a few hours now and they're somewhere late into the night. If she had to guess, she'd put the time at somewhere around eleven, maybe twelve.

There is no conversation this time, only a sense of a familiar presence that vanishes as quickly as it'd come. When she turns around though, she catches sight of something wrapped in a cloth that hadn't been there before she started on her shelter for the night.

Curious, she stands, brushing the dirt from her hands against the seat of her jeans. She ambles over to the fire, and unlike Regina, squats down as she imagines a peasant might; not in the least bit regal-like.

Gingerly, she peels the sides of the cloth back, and instantly closes her eyes at the sweet, warm smell emanating from it. Her mouth waters and she's reaching without second thought, or question, biting into it and moaning at the combination of meat and cheese that fills her mouth.

It's half an inch from the second bite that she stops, eying the sandwich as if it might mutate and sprout a limb. It's stupid to trust a gift from the Evil Queen, but she's so goddamn _hungry._

A flicker of _something_ demands her attention from the corner of her eye. She turns her head, a piece of paper stuck to her shoulder. Peeling it off and flipping it over, she frowns down at the words.

_If you know me as well as you claim, you would know my preferred method of poison._

Head shaking, she falls back on her ass and crosses her legs. She tosses the paper into the fire, then says aloud, "That's not as convincing, or as comforting as you might think."

Within seconds, another piece of paper appears, only this time it smacks her in the face. She chuckles as she peels this one off too and glances at it.

_If you would prefer to starve, feel free to toss it into your little fire._

"Nah." Taking another bite, she again flicks the paper into the fire and mumbles around the mouthful, "There are worse ways to go." Swallowing, she adds, "Thanks, Your Majesty."

This time, when the paper appears, it pops into existence in front of her face and flutters down into her lap, the words right-side up. She smiles as she reads them.

_You're welcome, barbarian._


	2. Chapter 2

When Emma awakens the next morning and crawls from her shelter, she sees another bundle beside the now burned out fire. This one is bigger than the last and she frowns as she walks over to it, curious but still wary enough of the Queen that she hesitates before picking it up.

It's lighter than she was expecting, and softer too.

Taking her seat in the same spot as the night before, she opens it up, and instantly smiles. This gift consists mainly of clothes, but it's the note on top of the pair of pants that she sees first.

_If you are hungry, snap your fingers._

As soon as she's read it, she follows the instruction and not a moment later, a bowl materializes where the bundle had been, steam rising up from whatever sits inside.

Lurching forward, she snatches it up and inhales the steam, groaning down into the bowl as she drops her head. She has no idea what it is, but it smells fucking _divine_ and, once again, she's lifting it to her mouth and drinking it down without thought or question.

In record time, the bowl is empty, and then she's pouting down at it. Would it be rude to ask for more? It was delicious, whatever the hell it was.

"Your Majesty?"

For minutes, she sits waiting for an answer but, after at least ten of them, when none is forthcoming, she sighs and sets the bowl aside, rising with her new set of clothes. Maybe the Queen will send her lunch.

 _Or_ , her brain finally remembers how to think, _she'll appear and you'll realize she's discovered your weakness for food and is using it to tempt you to accept her offer._

Grimacing as she discards her clothes, Emma concedes to the thought. Anything is possible when it comes to Regina. It isn't just the Evil Queen who uses people's weaknesses to get what she wants. Not a week before, Regina convinced her to wear her Sheriff's uniform to the next town meeting by bringing her bear claws and batting her pretty lashes at her.

She's weak when it comes to food, but she's even weaker when it comes to Regina getting what she wants.

Sighing, resigned, she starts to bounce in an attempt to get herself into the tight leather pants the Queen chose for her. She'd have preferred jeans, but in a medieval hell hole, she supposes beggars can't be choosers.

They're halfway up her thighs when she freezes, her head snapping up with a thought. Not a minute later, a piece of paper gets stuck in the branches of her shelter, confirming said thought.

_I just returned from court, but I certainly appreciate what little of the show I saw._

"Laugh it up, Queenie," she says, resisting the urge to cover herself as she yanks them the rest of the way up and buttons them closed. "I should charge you for the show."

"Name your price," the Queen purrs, out of sight but close enough that Emma quickly grabs the shirt provided for her and throws it on, fumbling with the buttons as she stumbles out of the shelter. "For someone who spent the night living like a bandit beneath the stars, you look positively ravishing."

Fire blazing, the Queen warms her hands, eyes raking over Emma. When their eyes meet, she cocks a brow and repeats, "Your price?"

Emma stares, speechless for but a moment before she asks, "You were serious?"

"I was."

Forgoing the last button, Emma immediately points to the discarded bowl. The Queen chuckles before flicking her wrist and Emma rushes over, almost sobbing as she drops to the ground on her knees.

"Tsk, you'll dirty your new clothes," the Queen chides.

"Don't care," she breathes, bowl already against her mouth. She downs about half before she realizes how that must have sounded and she lowers the bowl, expression sheepish. "I mean, thank you… for this, and the clothes."

With a wry smile, the Queen gestures dismissively and replies, "Finish your breakfast, dear."

Upon doing so, she places the bowl down for the final time and leans back on her hands, belly warm and, more importantly; full. She sighs, considering her next words before she speaks again. "I was abandoned on the side of the road less than ten minutes after I was born," she starts because even if it was a trick to get what she wanted, she wouldn't be anywhere near as content as she is now without the Queen's help.

"I didn't—"

"I never had a home," she interrupts, ignoring what she assumes is a protest. "There were a lot of houses, a lot of people— so called _families_. Some of them were okay, most of them were bad. I ran away from the last one when I was fifteen, stayed homeless until I stole something one day and met a guy who told me he loved me. Ended up pregnant, then imprisoned for a crime he committed, hated him for a while, Gave the baby up, got out of prison, found a job… ten years later the kid found me and dragged me back to a place I've called home for the last four years, where I met the people who abandoned me twenty eight years earlier."

When she's finished, she tips her head back and stares up at the treetops, waiting. "For a story you claimed to be long and boring, that was rather concise and intriguing."

Smiling, she pulls her head forward and sits up. "For someone who lived through it and has all the memories, I guess it just seems long and boring after a while." She shrugs and asks, "Now what?"

"I did make you an offer."

"That isn't why I told you," she counters.

"Be that as it may, the offer remains."

Emma nods, choosing to believe the offer sincere. Yes, Regina is the Evil Queen, but she's still Regina and maybe— just maybe, the connection they share in Storybrooke exists here as well. "Where will you send me?"

The surprise is there, but she can almost feel the difference. Despite having been nothing but kind to her since they met, Regina still expects distrust.

"Wherever you like."

Emma smiles softly. "Unless you know how to travel through time and worlds," she says, "I'm not sure I know where that would be."

"I assumed your claim to time travel was a poor attempt at humour."

"I have an excellent sense of humour," she retorts, smirking when the only response is a familiar eye roll. "But no," she adds, "it wasn't."

Humming, the Queen steps closer and offers her a hand. When all Emma does is stare at it in confusion, she sighs. "I cannot ensure your survival _and_ research a way to send you home at the same time," she explains calmly. "I will take you to my home where you will be under no threat of being eaten alive by the forest's creatures, and we will search together."

 

* * *

 

 

The palace, she realizes, is another thing she remembers about a previous trip. She remembers the Evil Queen burning her mother at the stake in this very room she stands. Studiously ignoring the Queen's curious gaze when she flinches, she steps away from her and begins to walk the length of the room.

It's brighter than she remembers, which is laughable considering there'd been a _fire_ going the last time she was here. Everything is still black, shiny marble but she swears there are more windows than before, or perhaps more candles?

She can't be sure, but one thing she _is_ sure of is that she doesn't like this room.

"You seem perturbed." Closer than she expects the voice to be given she'd spent the previous ten minutes distancing herself, she jumps, startled. The Queen chuckles, breath warm against the side of her face when she leans in to purr, "Twitchy too."

A sound bordering a squeak sticks in Emma's throat as she jerks back. "I know you have a thing about hearts," she snaps, "but would you mind not inducing an attack in mine? I'm still kind of using it."

She regrets the words immediately but the Queen merely quirks a brow, the corners of her mouth lifting in a grin. She doesn't tease, question or even speak like Emma thinks she might. Instead, she turns with a crook of a finger and beckons her to follow as she saunters from the room.

Emma watches her go, easing her heart away from it's rapid pace with the steady in and out of her breath. Gaze fixed to the mesmerizing sway of hips, she wonders for what she knows won't be the last time, if it isn't, perhaps, her weakness for food that the darkness has chosen to latch onto.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whelp, I've found my tags.

"What can you tell me about your world?"

Emma eyes the goblet the Queen hands to her on passing. In between thinking it a bit too early to start drinking and wondering if whatever is in the goblet is enough to get her drunk, she somehow manages to catch the question.

Her answer is minimal, and possibly vaguely insulting if Regina chooses to take offense. "It's more uh… advanced?"

"How so?"

No offense, just genuine curiosity. Emma quietly breathes a sigh of relief and thinks _what the hell_ , taking a sip from the goblet. Her lids flutter, the drink warmer and a lot sweeter than she was expecting.

She's beginning to think she should stop expecting things considering how wrong she's been lately.

Snorting, she dismisses the look sent her way and answers the question as best she can. "For one, we don't use horse and carriage to travel. We have cars— oil fueled machines…" She pauses with a frown, only now realizing exactly how difficult it is to explain her world to someone who has no idea what she's talking about.

Apparently sensing her distress, the Queen murmurs, "You were doing fine, dear." Her mouth quirks once more in that familiar way. "For the record, I have travelled quite extensively, in this world and to others; I know what a car is."

"Oh." Relaxing, Emma slumps back in her seat and huffs out a breath. Regina has probably mentioned all of this before, but with all of the stories in her head, she was bound to forget _some_ things. "Right— well. Medicine is another example. Uh, do I have to explain what science and chemistry is, because I'm definitely going to fuck that up?"

The soft, melodious laugh is… unexpected, and yes, Emma decides, she is definitely going to have to stop doing that.

"I am… acquainted with Frankenstein, and his monster." Regina cocks an eyebrow. "Does that help?"

Emma wrinkles her nose. "Sort of, I— wait, do you mean the story or the people?"

" _Stories_ ," Regina corrects, "But I was referring to both, though I much prefer the stories to the reality; Victor Frankenstein is a boorish imbecile." Waving dismissively, she brings them back to the matter at hand and says, "What I need to know, specifically, is whether or not magic exists. Knowing that will drastically minimize the possibilities."

"Oh, uh…" Emma frowns. "I think our world, here, is known as the Land without Magic? I know that's probably weird considering I'm here and I had to get here somehow, but the part of the world I'm from is kind of a… rare exception, I guess?"

The grin is back and this time Regina does not disappoint expectation when she teases, "Are you aware you have a tendency to ramble?"

Cheeks heating with her blush, Emma nibbles at her lower lip. She _is_ aware, not only because her Regina has pointed it out many times in the past, but because she's nervous and a little overwhelmed; rambling is how she copes.

"Sorry."

"Oh no, dear, don't be—" The Queen chuckles, her grin softening in a way that Emma might be so bold as to claim as fond. "It's quite endearing, I assure you."

The warmth in her cheeks spreads as she clears her throat. "Thanks?"

Regina smirks and inclines her head. "I am familiar with your world," she informs, sitting forward and placing her own goblet on the table between them. "I haven't had the pleasure of a visit myself, but with a name like that, I'm sure you can understand why I would want to avoid it."

"Yeah." If not for the random portals, or rising from the ground like some sort of freak zombie covered in ooze, Emma wouldn't know the first thing about travelling between worlds, let alone time. "Being my third time here, I imagine we'll have trouble sending me back to the right year more than anything."

"That, my dear, is a valid point." Hand out, a book appears in Regina's palm. As she flicks through it, she enquires, seemingly indifferent, "Your third time?"

Emma cringes inwardly. She hadn't meant to let that slip. "Um, yeah." She chuckles nervously and explains, "I kind of have a bad habit of being sucked through portals."

Brow raised, the Queen notes, "But not this time."

No, not this time, but how would she know that? "Uh why… why do you say that?"

"You were in the Infinite Forest," she explains, peering up at her. "That forest is my domain and, as such, it is protected against any and all magic that isn't mine; a portal never would have opened there."

"Oh," Emma replies softly. That must be why she didn't have access to her magic.

"So?"

She chews her lower lip, contemplating. Does it make a difference? It isn't like she can go back the way she came; the Dark One's vault is for reincarnation, not time travel. How she knows this, she hasn't the faintest idea, but it is what it is and if that's what her mind is telling her, then there's nothing to be done about it. "Does it matter how I got here this time? I mean, you know portals can connect to our worlds from each other, can't we just send me back that way?"

"We can," Regina concedes, setting the book down in her lap. "And most likely will. I am curious, however, and your evasion is only adding to it." She smirks but her eyes give away the disappoint she feels when she asks, "Have I exceeded the limits of your trust already?"

Emma sighs knowingly. If she says no, then she'll have to confess to being the Dark One. If she says yes, then she offends the Evil Queen, which means she'll most likely spend the rest of her days as a resident of the dungeons.

"I am from the future," she says, holding up a hand when the Queen makes to interrupt. "A future where you are a fairly permanent fixture in my life. There is no one who knows me better, but the fact of the matter is, my Queen; I know more about you than you'd probably be comfortable with, which means that I know, at this present point in time, there are things more important to you than a friendship you may or may not believe exists years from now."

Seeing the thoughtful look on her face, Emma adds, "I don't want to offend you, and I trust you more than anyone in my life, but I know when it's time to sit down and shut up, and this? This is one of those times."

"Ah."

Emma blinks, confused. That was it? Everything she said and all she gets in response is ah? What even. "Ah?"

"You're a Dark One," Regina states, matter of fact. "Newly awakened if the faint trace of magic coming from you is any indication."

Mouth opening and closing, and opening again, Emma sputters, "What— how?"

"You're far easier to read when passionate, dear." She continues to gape and Regina grins, and explains, "I hadn't sensed the magic until you started rambling."

"That was perfectly coherent," Emma argues. "And sweet!"

At her huff, Regina smiles faintly and admits, "It was." She adds, "Of course now that I know what you were keeping from me, the why of the matter is much clearer, and I was right." She tips her head to the side, conceding, "You would have been as well… in a decade or two."

"Huh?"

"Currently, you have less magic in your body than I posses in a single hand, dear. The fact I doubt your abilities to even control the power you will gain, eventually, means you're of little use to me, Dark One or not," she drawls. "So, _Emma_ , you were wrong; our future friendship, of which I do believe, is far more important and enticing to me than any cute little magic trick you might be able to pull off in your current state."


	4. Chapter 4

**[Elsewhere in the Enchanted Forest]**

 

"Oh god," Regina groans as soon as she rolls onto her back and sees where Emma's blanket has led her. Why did it have to be the Enchanted Forest? She'd risked and sacrificed so much to be free of this place, _twice_.

"Mom?"

Jerking upright, she blinks while hoping to any and every god out there that she didn't hear— that she isn't _seeing_ what she thinks she is seeing. "Henry? What are you— why are you—" Her expression shifts from surprise to anger and her voice hardens. " _Henry_."

He smiles sheepishly and ambles over to her, staring down at her as he says, "I know; I'm grounded."

"Oh, my dear boy, no." Head shaking, she growls, "You are so much _worse_ than that."

No TV. No comics. No friends. No _girlfriend_. No phones. No electronics of any kind. No leaving his _room_ until he is at least thirty, and no Emma bloody Swan or any of those other charming idiots.

"Aww, come on, m—"

Snapping from her thoughts, she narrows her gaze and warns, "Don't even think of using that look on me." He looks so much like Emma when he pouts, and she'll be damned if she caves to him after this.

"I couldn't just stay behind and let you go off to find ma _alone_ ," he protests.

"I'm the reason she needs to be found to begin with," she reminds him, getting to her feet. She makes a grab for him but he dodges her, far quicker than he has any right to be with those gangly limbs of his.

"Yeah, because she loves you and she chose to sacrifice herself to protect _you_ ," he counters. "What if you ended up dying here, mom? What if ma came back after? What was I gonna tell her? Hey, ma, sorry you lost your soul but it was kinda for nothing because mom ran off alone to try and save you, and got herself killed? Not happening, mom."

"Henry…" She sighs because despite wanting to protest with every fiber of her being, he's right; she shouldn't have come alone— shouldn't have insisted it was _her_ responsibility.

"I can't lose either of you, and I'm not gonna sit on the sidelines anymore while you both risk your lives to protect everyone else." His face contorts in a scowl. "What kind of shitty person does that?"

When she reaches for him this time, he stands still and she cups his cheek. He doesn't need to tell her who he's thinking about. When this is all over, that _shitty person_ will no longer be a problem for them.

She strokes his cheek before sliding the hand to the back of his neck and pulling him into her arms. "You are a sweet, sweet boy, Henry." She kisses his temple, then grabs his shoulders, pushing him back and holding him at arms length as she lowers her voice to add, "I will forgive you this once, but if you ever…"

His grin causes her to falter. "You'll destroy my happiness?"

Chuckling, she shakes her head. Another time and place, and her heart would have sunk at such a thought, but not now. Not after everything they've been through together. "No, dear." She releases him, pats his cheek, and says, "I'll destroy your mother; it's her idiot genetics at work here, after all."

His eyes roll all the way into the back of his head. She laughs quietly, impressed. "Why can't you two flirt like normal people?"

"I have no idea what you're t—"

"Yeah," he interrupts, drawling, "you're not fooling me, mom." He laughs at her expression, then grins. "Robin Hood, _really_?"

"What?" Genuinely confused, she replies, "He's my soul mate."

"He's a dirty bandit and you can do better, you both can." He smirks. "Time to put on your big girl panties and—"

"Henry!" More amused than surprised, she chuckles. If there was ever any doubt about whose son he is, then this confirms it. "I swear your mother is rubbing off on you more and more each day."

"Good thing you love her then."

Channeling her evil queen, she growls lowly, "You best hush, boy."

He giggles. "It doesn't work on ma, it's not going to work on me either."

She raises a brow, recalling a few instances in which it has, in fact, worked on his other mother. Granted, the first time wasn't quite the reaction she'd expected from the ever surprising Miss Swan, but she'd adjusted quickly and taken advantage, often.

"Pests," she declares, "the both of you."

He bumps into her and she cracks a smile that fades the second she looks down to inspect the thing that dug into her hip. "Does your grandfather know you have his sword?"

"Who do you think gave it to me?" When she reaches for it, he grabs her hand and entwines their fingers. "I know how to use it, mom. Grandpa knew I'd follow you. He gave it to me to protect you."

Swallowing thickly, she forces down the desire to argue. She could claim to be all the protection they need, but it's obvious Henry wants to feel useful and if carrying his grandfather's sword around with an idea in his head that it'll help them stay safe should they run into trouble, then she won't take that away from him.

She is certainly going to murder Charming for not convincing him to stay behind when they return, though.

Breaking the silence that is stretching between them, Henry says, "Grampastiltskin says ma probably ended up in the Infinite Forest."

Her brow furrows, a whole plethora of emotions rushing through her at his words; anger, curiosity, worry. Anger she knows won't help and she breathes in slowly, then out again, dismissing it. She adds Rumple to the list of people to murder, then questions, "Did he say why?"

"He said that's where the Dark One vault is and that ma needed to be… reborn?"

Anger and curiosity dealt with, her worry multiplies in their place. If Emma is trapped within the Infinite Forest, then it's only a matter of time before the Queen finds her, assuming she hasn't already.

Squeezing his hand tightly, she murmurs, "Brace yourself," before they vanish in a cloud of smoke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, I won't be adding a second Emma; I've learned my lesson.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, we're back to this one for the moment. I don't have the energy to fight the muse for now.

They've been wandering for hours with no sign of Emma in sight. Regina sends out a pulse of magic every now and then in the hope of a response, but Emma isn't here, or she simply isn't answering her. Emma's magic used to call to her; warm and seductive— not too unlike the siren's song, except instead of luring her to her watery grave, it transfixed and beckoned with promises of safety and home.

Without it, she feels bereft and alone despite their son who walks right beside her, his hand in hers, squeezing every once in a while when she lets out a sigh. He can read her as well as any book, the writing on her pages a familiar tale told time and again; the variations slight, but there.

Fate pitted them as enemies, and then Emma told Fate where it could go; fighting for her, befriending her, caring about and _loving_ her. They've been through a lot together, little of it good, but they've come out on top every single time and though she worries, she knows, deep down, that this is no different.

"Mom…"

Pulled from her thoughts, she glances at Henry, then to where he points with a grin as wide as his face. She smiles softly at the sight of the campsite. There is nothing subtle about the signs of Emma Swan dotting the area; from the unnecessarily large campfire, to the unsurprisingly well-built shelter. It reminds her a little of Neverland, though it's obvious there'd been significantly less thought put into this than when Emma had shared with her.

Regardless, if Emma managed to survive the night without the Queen finding her, then perhaps she's still wandering. Looking around, there are no indications of a struggle of any kind— not that there would have been much struggle to begin with. Knowing Emma, had the Queen come, the idiot likely would have gone with her willingly, forever trusting of her and all of her incarnations, whether she deserves such trust or not.

"Emma," she calls, raising her voice to shout, "Emma Swan, if you are nearby, you best march yourself back here this instant!"

"Mom…"

Ignoring the tug on her hand, she tries again. "Miss Swan!"

" _Mom_ ," Henry snaps and she jerks, eyes darting to him before she follows his gaze. "Hey ma."

Emma grins. "Hey kid." Meeting her wide-eyed stare, Emma tilts her head. "No parents or pining puppies, Regina? I'm shocked… pleased, but shocked."

Taking a step forward, Regina pauses, swallowing as she finally takes in what exactly it is she's seeing; Emma in leather pants— _her_ leather pants, if she's not mistaken. The jacket she hasn't seen in a very long time, but she recognizes it as one of the ones from before her time as Queen. Emma is wearing her clothes, and though each piece is from different time periods, the outfit somehow _works_.

"I wasn't sure about the pants at first." Her gaze flicking up, she watches the grin grow as Emma moves closer, adding, "You really seem to like them though... past you, I mean. Not sure about you you, yet."

"They suit you," she admits because it's _true_ and because, why lie? Another few steps and Emma will be close enough to see the truth. She has never been good at hiding it. Not from Emma, anyway. "H— how are you?"

Shrugging, Emma's grin softens into a smile. "Weak and inconsequential," she says, tone playful. "According to the Queen, at least."

"Inconsequential?" If that's true, then the Queen doesn't know her at all. Regina shakes her head, voice a tad bit high in disbelief as she repeats, "Weak?"

"Right?" Emma chuckles, affection filling her smile. "Magic wise," she explains. "Apparently becoming the Dark One didn't turn me into some all-powerful super villain overnight." She shrugs again. "Not that I'm complaining— not sure I could handle her if I was."

Regina raises a brow, unconvinced. "And you _can_ handle her now?"

"Well…" Emma smirks. "The stalking in the beginning was a little concerning, but she's growing on me."

Blinking, Regina echoes, "Stalking?" That would require patience and some form of subtlety, neither of which she possessed as Queen. "I'm beginning to question your sanity, dear."

Emma laughs. "Join the club," she says. "Seriously, though, I was expecting worse… a lot worse. She's not bad, really."

" _Not bad_?"

Brow furrowing, Emma glances to their son. "She broken?"

He grins. "Nah, I think her brain is just stuck on calling you an idiot." Mild offense crossing her expression, he laughs. "Seriously, ma; you just described the Evil Queen as _not bad_."

"Well she's _not_. She fed me, gave me clothes when I got wet—she even sent me here when you two showed up," she counters, eyes narrowing at them both; an almost glare. "So, yeah, _not bad_ is an understatement more than anything."

Her heart shouldn't warm like this— with Emma defending the worst parts of herself, but it does. Regina glances down at her chest, the corner of her mouth lifting because _of course_ Emma would defend her. She always does and while it might surprise her every time, Regina appreciates it more and more each time.

There were good days, she can't deny it. She told Emma about some of them, the two of them having spent the occasional night— morning— afternoon together, talking, reminiscing, sharing with each other whatever thought came to mind at the time because that's who they are to one another, together. They're friends, and that's what friends do, so Emma had said, multiple times in that stubborn, relentless way she has.

It isn't unusual for the Queen to offer help to someone in need, as long as that someone was in no way connected to Snow White and her revenge. It is believable; that she would help someone like Emma— that Emma might be someone who could grab onto her attention and hold onto it without getting herself killed.

She is, after all, rather quite fond of Emma Swan.

"Where is she?"

Emma hums. Regina isn't certain if it's in thought or if Emma is contemplating whether or not she should answer the question. Fortunately, she doesn't have to wait long to find out, as no more than a minute passes before Emma speaks.

"In the library, most likely; she's trying to help me find a way home." She pauses to give a wry smile, and then adds, "Though, from recent experience, I imagine she's a little preoccupied with eavesdropping on us to focus."

The smile grows and she raises her hand. Regina stares at it in confusion before the fingers unfurl to reveal a piece of paper. Reading it, Emma laughs and shows it to her.

_Perhaps I shall inform the cook that I would indeed enjoy roasted swan for dinner._

Regina smiles faintly. It was rare for her to be in a playful mood, but Emma has been known to bring it out in her more often than she'd like— especially given she's usually in a bad mood whenever Emma does it. "She's bluffing," she discloses. "We've never liked that dish."

"Oh really?"

The writing on the paper transforms before their eyes; one word that has them both laughing.

_Traitor._


	6. Chapter 6

Like mother, like son; Henry takes a shine to this playful side of her past self. After the little notes, Emma demanded the Queen come and get them. To Regina's surprise, the Queen did, and without so much as a fireball to Emma's head for daring to order her about. She understands, but only to an extent because while she has had years to build up a tolerance to Emma Swan, the Queen hasn't. That she resisted with a fair amount of ease while Regina herself still struggles from time to time means she's suspicious of her, to say the least.

That suspicion only grows when the Queen offers Henry a tour of her home, leaving the two of them alone together. She'd wanted to protest at first, but then Emma had sat beside her with one of those insipid smiles and she was gone, only realizing Queen and son were too when, minutes later, she finally averted her gaze to begin her rant of precisely why she refuses to leave Henry alone with her.

Now, they sit in comfortable silence; Emma sipping something sweet from the goblet in her hand while Regina flicks through the book the Queen had been reading prior to absconding with their son. She'd been relieved to find the book contained information on time travel, confirming that the Queen was indeed attempting to help Emma find a way home. It helped to ease her suspicion, though it remains in abundance.

A shift from the body beside her draws her away from the pages, eyes lifting to meet Emma's own in question.

"I didn't trust her."

"No?" It is somewhat surprising, if true.

Emma shakes her head, a half smile curling her mouth. "She tried to trick me at first."

That, however; "Not surprising," Regina concedes. "Someone who accepts help from a complete stranger is an imbecile. I didn't like to waste time." Still doesn't.

Nodding, Emma replies, "I thought it might be something like that."

"For all my teasing, you've always been far less of an idiot than I accuse you of."

She grins. "I think I intrigued her."

Regina inclines her head. Something had to have stayed her hand and Emma is certainly the type of woman who would've done it in those days. She'd have noticed her beauty first—perhaps teased her. Depending on how Emma reacted, she'd make a decision from there. A whiff of fear, and she'd have been executed on the spot, but a challenge— even the smallest hint of one, and Emma would have caught her; hook, line and sinker, the same as she had the night they met.

"You'd be dead if you hadn't," she agrees, returning her attention to the book as she recalls that very night and murmurs, "I don't take kindly to those who intrude on my domain."

"Right…"

The silence returns, and it is far less comfortable than before. Still, anything is preferable to talking about her past. She wasn't a nice person despite current appearances. Truth be told, much of the Queen remains within the person she's become. She'd laugh if anyone were to describe her as nice _now_.

"Regina?"

Sighing, she lowers the book and raises a brow. "Yes?"

Twisting to face her, Emma brings her leg up onto the settee, the knee of her other leg adopting a mild, and distracting, bounce. "Do we— I mean, should we talk about… about what I did?"

Not quite what she was expecting, Regina frowns. "You mean when you sacrificed your soul for me?"

"Yeah?"

Her frown deepens. Perhaps they should talk, but she wouldn't know where to begin. "Would you like to talk about it?"

"I… don't know? I just…" Releasing a puff of breath, Emma drags a hand through her hair. "I feel like I should explain, or apologize, or something?" The bounce quickens along with the speed of her mouth as she rambles, "You seem different and I'm not sure what it is, but I have a feeling it's my fault and I—"

 _No._ There is no fault here, just as there'd been no time. None that Regina had been willing to waste when finding Emma was far more important. "I haven't quite processed it yet," she interrupts, grasping her knee and squeezing in reassurance.

"Huh?"

She chuckles and squeezes again before retracting her hand. "One minute you were there, and in the next you were gone," she explains, smiling warmly. "I didn't give myself time to think about any of it. I needed to find you, and now that I have…"

Understanding dawns. "You're processing."

"I'm processing," she confirms with a nod.

Emma breathes a sigh in what sounds like relief. "Okay then."

"For the record, you have nothing to apologize for," Regina adds. If anything, she should be thanking her. "I haven't sorted through everything I'm feeling yet," she admits, "but the one thing I am is grateful for what you did. I don't think I could have survived—"

Emma stops her there, head shaking. She grabs the hand previously on her knee and smiles a smile filled with affection that reaches her eyes. "You could have. There is nothing I'm more certain of than that, Regina," she says. "You're the strongest person I know and you _could_ have survived this, but I…" She nibbles her lower lip, gaze dropping to their hands as Regina entwines their fingers. She breathes in, then slowly out, and admits, "I didn't want you to. I meant what I said; you've been through enough. You deserve a chance to be happy for once without having to deal with this… this shit."

"Are they always like this?" They both jerk at the Queen's voice, heads whipping around in search of her. She emerges from behind one of the many bookcases surrounding them, her arm around Henry who is, vigorously, nodding his head. "Interesting."

Patting his shoulder, she removes her arm and nudges him forward towards them. Regina glares at her past self a moment before dismissing the knowing look in her eyes and turning her attention to her son. "Did you enjoy yourself?"

"Yep. I thought our garden at home was big, but the one here is _huge_." Expression sheepish, he grins and admits, "I almost got lost."

"It helped me to hide from my advisors," she says, smiling softly as he drops down beside her.

"Among others," the Queen mutters, sighing heavily.

"Ah." Regina smirks. She remembers that sigh well. "We've arrived at _that_ point in time, hmm?"

Emma glances between them, back and fro, numerous emotions crossing her face before she settles on curious and questions, "What time?"

"Rotation," the Queen drawls, waving a hand. A goblet appears, fingers wrapping around it as she explains, "I had to station a rather amorous guard away from the Palace a few months ago and now he's returned."

"There was a regret I'd been happy to forget," Regina admits. She should have known not to mix business and pleasure, but he was so—

The Queen snorts. "I wish I could be so lucky."

Emma huffs. "Pretty? Arrogant? Can't take no for an answer," she guesses. "What?"

"All of the above," Regina admits. Wilson was a gorgeous man, completely infatuated with her and almost annoyingly loyal. Unfortunately for him, he wasn't particularly exciting in bed and had lost her interest within minutes. He was one of her most decent guards, however, and killing him had been out of the question, so she'd sent him away, hoping he'd lose interest in her before his return.

 _If only_.

"Want me to kick his ass?"

She grins at the question but before she can, gratefully, decline Emma's offer, the Queen chuckles lowly and interjects, "She is delightful, and to think; you have her all to yourself."

Regina shakes her head. Combined with the look she'd given her before, there is no mistaking the implication. "Emma and I aren't—"

"There's no use denying it, Henry's already told me all about you two."

He gasps. "Hey!"

When the three of them fall silent to glare at each other, Emma clears her throat. "Okay, I'm confused. He told you _what_ , exactly?"

"How you're always saving each other and giving one another love struck expressions," the Queen says, the amusement in her voice only serving to harden the glare Regina has fixed on their son. "I believe the term he used was _googly eyes_."

"You're grounded."

Henry pouts but when it's obvious she isn't about to give into him and take it back, he shrugs and counters, "Wasn't I already?"

Her eyes narrow. He was indeed. "Smartass."

He grins and pokes his tongue out, retorting, "Takes one to know one."

Turning to Emma, she accuses, "That is your influence."

Emma beams a smile at her, as proud as can be. "You're welcome?"


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Although it should become obvious fairly quick, to prevent any confusion; this is now the Queen's perspective, as will be the next two chapters, which should also be somewhat longer.

Watching the way her future self relaxes around Emma amazes Regina. She didn't understand it at first, but oh the moment they met, she understood it just fine. The connection didn't exist through the mirror. The appeal was certainly there— the hunger, but Emma was no different than any other she was attracted to. She'd wanted to bed her as soon as she'd laid eyes on her, those muscles of hers rippling beneath the sun as Emma handled that machine and took to her poor, defenseless apple tree; the mere memory of it is enough to get her blood boiling, and not in the usual way.

Two days of having the woman so near, and yet so far has wreaked havoc on her nerves, not to mention her restraint. If only future her had shown up a day later, she may have gotten Emma Swan out of her system.

_And out of_ her _clothes._

Throat rumbling with a soft purr as the thought flitters through her head, she tips her head back against the lip of the bath and closes her eyes. Two days ago, before she'd watched Emma sacrifice herself, she'd been ashamed of the person she becomes, no longer willing to take the things she wants and more concerned with pleasing others, with fitting in—ashamed, disgusted; neither words did her feelings justice when it came to how disappointed she was with her future self.

And then the Dark One came, bringing with it the woman who had captivated her for _years_. It seemed her luck had changed. She was even willing to forgive herself for the pathetic, pining peasant she'd become if it meant meeting Emma here, and now.

Of course, then she had to go and ruin it by arriving a day earlier than expected. Not that it surprises her, prone to self-sabotage as she is.

Lips parting, she exhales a long, slow breath, then, with a deep breath in, she slides a hand down her torso and between her legs, humming faintly as thoughts of that pretty little blonde fill her mind.

It can't be more than a minute or two later when there's a knock at the door, and she curses.

"Hey uh… Your Majesty?"

Her eyes snap open at the voice, mouth curling mischievously. "I do so detest shouting when I'm attempting to relax," she drawls, "Do come in, dear."

The door cracks open just enough to permit Emma to pop her head in. "Sorry. I was just wondering if you maybe had another spare shirt I could borrow."

Regina draws her hand from the water and up along her inner thigh before she turns her head. She notes where Emma's eyes have fallen and stifles a grin. "What's wrong with the one I gave you?"

Tearing her gaze from Regina's chest, Emma glances down. She pushes the door open slightly more and tugs at the shirt she's wearing, looking up as she raises a brow and says, "I kinda spilled ale on it?"

"Ah." Taking a moment to appreciate the way the shirt sticks to her when she lets it go, Regina sighs heavily. She's about to tell Emma where to find another when she's hit with an idea and rises swiftly, water dripping from her body. "Let us see, shall we?"

Emma's mouth falls open and something akin to a squeak is heard before she disappears suddenly. Quite clearly hearing her sputter in the next room, Regina's grin blossoms and spreads, and she saunters across to the door, yanking it open to the sight of wide, green eyes and a face that appears to be growing redder by the second.

"Uh."

Emma speechless might just be her favourite thing. "Breathing might help," she suggests, eyes raking from head to toe. Even covered in ale, the woman is outrageously sexy.

A long, low whine comes from somewhere deep inside Emma's chest. " _How?_ "

Patting her cheek, Regina chuckles throatily as she passes, careful to brush up against her as she goes. Reaching her bedroom door, she glances back with a smirk to find Emma still frozen in her spot. "Coming?"

Emma spins, eyes wider, her cheeks even redder than Regina would have imagined possible. "Um."

"Mind from the gutter, dear," she teases, turning to face her. "You can hardly peruse my clothes from all the way over there…" Head cocked, she feigns thought before adding, "Although, I'd be happy to hel—"

Clearing her throat, Emma interrupts, eyes slowly lifting from the floor before she forces them back down. "C-could you maybe wrap a towel around you or something?"

"I prefer to air dry."

"Christ," she groans, chin hitting her chest as she fixes her gaze to the ground.

"I don't know what that is, but I'll assume it's a compliment." Turning back to her room, Regina beckons her to follow, stepping through the door with a sway of hips and a, "Come along, dear," tossed over the shoulder.

 

* * *

 

 

An hour or so after she finds Emma a new shirt and sends her on her way, she returns to the library. All she intends to do is retrieve a book to read before bed but when she enters, she's met with a familiar glare. The corners of her mouth quirk knowingly. She wasn't sure if Emma would tell her what she'd done, but that glare tells her everything she needs to know; Emma did and her future self is not only livid, but also jealous.

"What, precisely, were you hoping to achieve with that stunt?"

Her brow slowly inches its way up to her hairline. Was it not obvious? What possible outcome could she have wanted besides the one she continues to want? "Well," she drawls, "A good, long fuck would have been nice, but I suppose the alternative was enjoyable enough."

That raises her older self's hackles. "You leave Emma alone."

"Or what?" She chuckles. "You'll kill me?"

"There are fates far worse than death."

Such as allowing Snow White to live for another chance at happiness. A happiness she then, for some reason, decides not to pursue, content to pretend friendship is all she needs or wants from the woman she loves while she wastes away with that bore of man Robin Hood.

If that is her destiny, then yes; it truly is a fate far worse than death.

"Indeed," she agrees before moving to a bookcase and choosing a book at random.

Without another word, she tucks the book beneath her arm and ignores the eyes on the back of her head as she transports herself back to her bedroom. There was a reason she hadn't entered that tavern all those years ago. She may not remember it three decades down the line, but she hasn't forgotten it yet.


	8. Chapter 8

Regina chuckles to herself the next morning when she leaves the dining hall, her future son in tow. Having made her intentions known, her future self has willingly fallen into her trap and joined herself to Emma's hip, refusing to let the poor woman out of her sight even for a moment.

Love has made her gullible, it seems.

"So…" Henry falls into step beside her and she slows at his voice. His grin is almost as wide as hers. "How'd you do it?"

She considers telling him the truth before she remembers he's a fourteen year old boy and Emma is his mother. She doesn't imagine being told his other mother revealed herself to Emma would go over quite as well as it had for her. She smiles and playfully replies, "To know would horrify you."

"You didn't kill anyone, did you?"

His sigh tells her he expects her answer to be yes and she frowns, her smile faltering as she glances at him from the corner of her eye. Four years have passed, and still that damnable book colours his perception of her. "No."

"Oh." He looks at least vaguely ashamed when he mumbles, "Sorry."

It's her turn to sigh then. She can't blame him, much as she might like to. The book had left out a lot but what it did include wasn't wrong. It isn't his fault their worlds couldn't be more different. Had he been raised in hers, perhaps he would understand better. She didn't kill anyone who didn't deserve it; they had all betrayed her, one way or another. As Queen, killing them was her prerogative, but it was no excuse— not to her child.

"You think when we come back, we'll catch them making out?"

She snorts. She hopes to find them naked and sweaty with their faces between each other's thighs, but she supposes it would be rather worrying if their son shared her thoughts. "At the very least," she murmurs, inwardly purring as her preferred scenario plays out in her mind.

If their pasts are any indication, she doubts either case will be true. They are both too stubborn, too damaged to take that kind of leap. She may not know Emma as well as she'd like, but she knows herself well enough to know fear when she sees it and, somewhere along the way between seeing Emma through the mirror that first time and the breaking of her curse, she'd picked up that fear and held it close to her heart.

It is just one of the many things about the woman she becomes that infuriates her.

Everything she did, everything she does, and everything she _will_ do has and will be in pursuit of her happiness. The her from the future continues to bemoan fate and how unfair it all is, and her happiness is _staring her right in the face._

She has watched them dance around each other for _four years_ and she is damn well tired of it. All either of them need to do is open their eyes, then she can stop pretending and give them the spell to return to home.

"Can we watch the soldiers train?"

Blinking rapidly as the question invades her head, she hums thoughtfully. "They won't begin for a few hours yet," she says, noting his frown before she suggests, "Why don't we take a walk into the village? Perhaps we'll find something nice for your mothers."

He grins at her then. "You _really_ want them together, huh?"

She chuckles, delighted at how happy that makes him. "My boy," she drawls, flashing him a grin of her own. "You have _no_ idea."

 

* * *

 

 

Emma's knocks are becoming increasingly familiar. She peers up from the piece of parchment in front of her and sets her quill down. She waits, knowing that if she is with Emma, she'll simply barge in in a moment because while they may be different in other ways, some things never change.

When her silence is met with a second knock, she smirks, curious where her counterpart is as she raises her voice and says, "You may enter, Em-ma."

There is a slight flush to pale cheeks when Emma enters the room but it's gone by the time she turns to close the door, and turns back. Regina rises from behind her desk and saunters across to the small table against the wall, brow raised as she pours herself a drink. "I see you've managed to escape my better half."

"I uh…" Emma shakes her head and clears her throat. "We talked," she explains, "this morning when you left with Henry. I noticed what she was doing— she did it with Hook too."

Regina grimaces. Although she knows what Emma's parting words to the pirate had been, the mere mention of him has her desiring another bath. Ignoring the want for now, she can't quite disguise the surprise from her voice when she repeats, "You noticed?"

Emma nods. "Yeah," she breathes out on a sigh, and then chuckles. "She… _you're_ ," she corrects, "not as subtle as you think."

Walking back to her desk, drink in hand, Regina sits, another smirk shaping her mouth. "The difference between the two of us, my dear," she purrs, "is that I wasn't _trying_ to be subtle."

"No," Emma concedes with a laugh. "I guess there isn't really anything subtle about willingly exposing yourself to someone."

"Is that why you're here?" Regina questions, leaning back in her chair. "If you've come to ask me to stop, I really don't think I could if I tried."

"Well…" Emma bites her lip and finally moves away from the door. She slowly saunters across the room until she's standing before Regina's desk. "Actually, I'm kind of hoping you won't." Hands planted on the desk, she bends forward to quietly confess, "In fact, a little birdy told me you were hoping for a good, long fuck and I wanted you to know that I am more than happy to oblige."

Nostrils flaring as unadulterated want rolls through her, Regina groans. "What?" Emma straightens with a frown and steps back. "Was she— did you not say that?"

"Oh no, dear, I said it." And she certainly meant it, but the only reason she had said it was to get a rise out of herself. She didn't think she'd actually _tell_ Emma, nor that Emma would so brazenly admit her interest.

"So what's the problem?"

"The problem…" Her mind goes blank. What _is_ the problem? Besides potentially hurting her future self when she finds out, which she will and— yes, she supposes that might be enough of a problem without adding another to the equation. "The problem, my pet, is roughly thirty five years older and your friend."

"Yo— Regina?" She nods and Emma's frown deepens. "Why would she care? I mean, I know you're still her but we're both here in the past, so technically you're different and she… she's with Robin."

The rambling brings a smile to Regina's face, small but fond even as she chides, "And as far as she is aware, _you_ are with Hook."

Emma stares at her blankly, blinking. She takes another step back, suspicion creeping into her expression. "How do you know I'm not?" Offering no more than a raised brow in answer, anger replaces the expression. "You've been spying on me? All this time?"

"Yes."

Jaw clenching, her eyes squeeze shut and she releases a heavy breath through her nose. "You knew who I was before we met in the forest…" Her eyes open and the disappointment in them forms a lump in Regina's throat. "I told you my story for nothing?"

"No," she snaps, flinching before she softens her voice and repeats, "No. If you've told me in future, I didn't know. I don't know, nor have I seen everything."

"But you just s—"

She sighs. "I didn't sit in front of my mirror every waking moment of the day," she says, interrupting. "I _do_ have a kingdom to run… peasants to kill, your mother to torment—" She cocks her head at the look of surprise that crosses Emma's face, and adds wryly, "That one is quite a bit more time consuming than you might think."

Emma shakes her head and pinches the bridge of her nose. "Let me get this straight," she says, beginning to pace. "You know your future. You know what happens… when it happens, and you're still…"

She stops suddenly to gesture wildly at her and Regina bites the inside of her cheek to prevent the laughter from escaping. The implication is clear, but the fact Emma _still_ refuses to call her the Evil Queen despite what she's admitted to is highly amusing.

Rising, she places her drink down and rounds the desk as she questions, "How else would I get there?"

Emma eyes her warily but she doesn't try to put any more space between them. Brow furrowing, she echoes, "There? What are you talking about?"

"Storybrooke." Leaning against the desk, Regina explains, "I have a son who loves me and an enemy who finally, _finally_ understands what she did wrong, and _apologized_ for it." She glances off to the side, biting her lip before taking a breath. "I'm free from my mother," she adds quietly. "I have friends… I have _you_."

"Oh."

Meeting her gaze, she raises a shoulder in a half shrug. "I change anything, do a single thing differently, and I could ruin her life— my life." She wants that future, and she will do whatever she needs to, to get it. "I could ruin yours… Henry's. One mistake and he might not even be born."

Whatever anger Emma holds on to disappears from her expression as her curiosity takes over. "How do you… not?" She rolls her eyes at herself and amends, "Make a mistake, I mean."

"A potion," Regina explains, smiling softly. "One drop and, for a while, I forget everything the mirror showed me." She could live her life as it was intended, never second guessing herself because of a future she shouldn't know. "The day we met, it wore off completely."

"Is that not bad?"

She inclines her head. "It could be." But she won't allow it. "Once you leave, I will take a stronger dose— enough to erase the three of you and our days together permanently."


	9. Chapter 9

Their conversation came to a somewhat abrupt end when her future self waltzed into the room. By the look on her face, Regina could only assume she was about to be sniped at again. Not wanting to wait around to find out, she shot Emma a wink before shooting her hand into the air dramatically and rolling her wrist, lashes fluttering at herself as her magic gathered around her and whisked her off.

Twenty minutes later, she's sitting beneath a tree next to her father, his horse grazing nearby with Rocinante. Her cheeks hurt from how widely she's smiling. "She likes me, daddy."

He pats her knee, chuckling softly. "She would have to be blind, deaf and wrong in the head not to." Her face warms at the obvious praise. "Tell me about this you from the future, mi querida.  Are you happy?"

"Almost." She sighs before resting her head against his shoulder. "You remember the story I told you about the fairy and the man in the tavern?" He hums an affirmative. "We meet again."

"Oh no."

She nods. She's known for quite some time, but she hadn't seen the point in telling him about Robin the last time she visited him. The first time she saw her supposed soul mate with her future self in the mirror, she listened in on one of their conversations and she knew, then and there, she'd been right not to enter that tavern.

What kind of animal poorly seduces her in her vault, drunk and with his cursed wife nearby, no less? She'd let _Princess Leia_ and Maid Marian escape in the hope of coming between them, and instead the idiot woman had gone and gotten herself cursed instead, giving them even _more_ time together. If she weren't confident in her plan for keeping the future intact by not interfering, she'd have traveled to the future herself and killed them both for messing it up as badly as they had.

"Does he—"

" _No_ ," she interrupts, knowing the question before he's even done asking. She raises her head, eyes narrowed. The only reason they were together is because Marian finally grew a brain and filed for divorce, because in that world marriage is a _choice_ , and her future self has apparently lost a few too many brain cells— likely from all the magic and being constantly thrown into/through things. "He left for a month with his wife and when they came back, she was _pregnant_."

He grimaces, sympathetic. "It sounds to me like you have some work to do, princesa."

On the verge of scowling, she lets go of the budding anger at his words and breathes another sigh, head dropping back to his shoulder. "Yes," she agrees. "If only there was a spell to return sight to the blind, and intelligence to the stupid."

"That would solve a far too many problems in the world, I think." She can hear the humour in his voice and it makes her smile as she grabs his hand. He squeezes her fingers gently, questioning quietly, "Time to go?"

She shakes her head. Generally, she'd keep their visits brief so she didn't have time to consider not taking the potion. "I won't forget until they leave," she murmurs, kissing the back of his hand. "I can stay a while longer."

 

* * *

 

 

She returns to the palace later than she means to and goes straight to her room. She hasn't spent that much time with her father in years, not since she was a little girl. She'd forgotten how good it felt to be with someone who only wants for her happiness and he is more than happy to remind her of that every chance he gets.

Part of her knows he's trying to make up for the past, but a bigger part doesn't care. There have been plenty of people in her life who made it not worth living, plenty of people who treated her terribly and still slept well at night. Her father was never one of those people. He was afraid and she understands why, with or without her memories of their time together.

It hurts to think about what she will eventually do to him, but it hurts more that she has to hide it from him until the time is right.

Rubbing her chest, she shakes her head in an attempt to dispel the melancholy threatening to overcome her.

It doesn't work.

"Where'd you go?"

But that does.

Spinning on her heel, eyes wide, she snaps, "Miss Swan!" Emma raises her hands, smiling sheepishly from where she lounges on her bed. Regina blinks once, then twice more before the sight actually registers, and then she's frowning. "What are you doing?"

"Waiting for you." Emma grins as she says, "It was getting _really_ boring, but I decided you're worth it and stuck it out."

"Lucky me," Regina drawls, fighting a smile and rolling her eyes. "I _meant_ —"

"I know what you meant," Emma interjects. She throws her legs over the side of the bed and sits up, scooting to the edge as Regina moves closer. "I spent most of the day thinking about what you said."

"Which part?" Regina asks.

"All of it. You— other you got mad at me and stormed out not long after you left." Her mouth twitches. "Probably shouldn't have told her I offered myself to you."

Again, Regina shakes her head but she can't stop the laugh that follows.  " _Why_ ," she questions, "why would you tell her that? I told you—"

"Yeah, I know." Emma sighs before running a hand through her hair and laughing at herself. "We kinda… promised not to keep secrets from each other and— I dunno. She didn't need to know but I knew it'd bug me, not telling her, and she'd notice, then I'd tell her anyway and she'd get mad because I tried to keep it from her." She shrugs. "It's a lose lose for me, really."

Regina smiles because how can she not with this woman? Emma would risk her anger merely for the sake of being _honest_ with her. "My dear, you are an idiot."

Nodding, eyes warming with clear affection in them, Emma informs, "She said that before she stormed off."

Regina snorts. "Perhaps you should have extended the offer to her," she teases, taking a seat beside her. "I would never have guessed that, years from now, I would become this uptight." Emma raises a brow and she explains, "If you'd told me you offered to fuck her and she turned you down, I'd have stripped you down and had my way with you to make up for her stupidity."

"Oh." Cheeks pinking adorably, Emma sucks in her lower lip, biting down on it until the indents of her teeth appear before she lets it go. "Does that mean…"

"Yes," Regina admits and slides a hand across her thigh. "It was stupid," she adds, "rarely is the noble choice ever not."

Breath hitching, Emma glances down at the hand before meeting her gaze, Swallowing audibly, she hesitates before asking, "Does… does this mean?"

Regina grins as she leans in. "That I will gladly accept your offer of a good, long fuck?" Nipping at the lobe of her ear, she purrs, "Yes, Princess, it does."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ruh roh.


	10. Chapter 10

Emma inhales deeply through her nose, and holds it. Her heart and mind are screaming at her to stop this, but her body is another matter entirely. After the Queen disappeared and Regina stormed off to who knows where, she'd been left alone with her thoughts. Four years, and it had taken becoming the Dark One to understand what that fluttering in the pit of her stomach was— why her heart would skip a beat whenever Regina entered the room, and why her throat would close up until she could no longer breathe.

Realizing she _can't_ breathe, she releases her breath and almost chokes on it. The Queen chuckles and she's so, so close, Emma can feel the puff of it against her neck, and she shivers as the warmth spreads from her cheeks, up to her head and down to her toes.

"Don't laugh," she murmurs, embarrassed by just how out of control she is of her own body.

Stroking her thigh, the Queen draws the tip of her nose from Emma's ear and over her cheek, lips pressed to the corner of her mouth in a gentle kiss.

"You would regret it," she whispers before nuzzling her jaw. "We both would."

Nodding, Emma captures the wandering hand. Entwining their fingers, she closes her eyes and allows herself a moment to enjoy the attention. No matter how badly she wants to, she knows she _would_ regret it. She'd hurt Regina once today already and she refuses to do it a second time.

"I know."

She feels the smile against her cheek before it, along with the warmth, disappear. Opening her eyes, she glances around to find she's in a completely different room. It only takes her a minute to recognize it, but it's long enough for the door to open and for her to come face to face with Regina.

She swallows. "Hi."

A brow rises. "Come to tell me about your bedroom adventures with the Queen? If so, I'm not interested."

"I…" She frowns. Did Regina honestly think her so callous that she would _brag_ about it afterwards? "Nothing happened."

Regina sniffs, her words belaying her disinterest as she questions, "Oh? Change your mind, or did she turn you down again?"

"Regina," Emma sighs, shoulders slumping. "It was a moment of weakness, okay?" She shakes her head and amends, "Multiple moments. You're attractive— more so when you express an interest in me, and I'm... I'm—"

"An idiot?"

Averting her gaze to the floor, she bites her lip to stifle a smile, nodding. "Yeah," she agrees, looking up again. "I'm an idiot."

"Good. Glad we're on the same page." Regina points to the door and says, "Now get out of my room."

"No."

She huffs. "Fine." She crosses through the room and into the bathing room beyond, slamming the door.

Emma groans and throws herself down onto the bed. That could have gone better, but it also could have gone worse. Regina is still speaking to her— or she _was._

Pushing herself up again and using her hands behind her to keep her upright, Emma frowns at the closed door. For all she knows, Regina could very well have magicked herself elsewhere for the night, content to avoid her for as long as possible, which, considering where they are and how often she's gotten lost over the last few days, could very well be the rest of her life.

"Regina?" She launches herself from the bed when there's no answer and crosses the room in a few short strides. "Regina?!"

"Do be quiet, Miss Swan." Her head thumps a little too hard against the door in relief. "Emma?"

"I'm fine," she mumbles, body following her head as it rolls until her back is against the door and she can slide down to the floor.

This isn't going at all like how she planned; not that she'd spent much time planning it, mind. In all honesty, between telling Hook he isn't her happy ending, sucking up the black swirly vortex of doom and trying not to drool over the Queen (those outfits are _sin_ ) in all her majestic glory, she's been a little preoccupied of late.

She might, possibly, have been trying to stall a little too. It isn't everyday one discovers they have feelings for their best friend, who just so happens to be in a relationship already. That isn't even taking into account the fact she was dumped in the Enchanted Forest with the past incarnation of said best friend who is— well; _damn_ is a fairly apt descriptive when it comes to the Evil Queen.

Hesitant cannot begin to describe her feelings when it comes to having this conversation with Regina. If Regina rejects her outright, for whatever reason, then what happens? Is she meant to pretend the feelings don't exist, and if so, how? They're so bright, and warm, and _heavy_. What is she supposed to do with them, if not vomit them all over Regina the next chance she gets?

Grimacing at the immediate visual that enters her head, she's about to push away from the door and make her way back to the bed when it opens.

"I would ask what you're doing—" Regina drawls as Emma's head hits her thigh. "—but that would require me to care. Move." Scooting forward and off to the side, Emma watches her walk over to the bed and sit down. "What do you want?"

Leaning back against the wall, she raises a brow. "Oh, so you care about that, then?"

Her expression blank, Regina replies, "If feigning interest means you leaving sooner, I'll make do."

Sighing, Emma tips her head back and stares up at the ceiling. She brought this on herself, she knows, but sometimes she wishes Regina would make an already difficult situation just a tiny bit easier for her— just a smidgen; enough to let her know that maybe she hasn't quite fucked everything up as much as she thinks.

"I'm sorry."

"For?"

Inwardly groaning, she rubs at her face with both hands before dropping her head forward and meeting Regina's gaze. "Everything?" She snorts humourlessly and admits, "That's a lie."

"You don't say."

Mouth twitching, she nods. "I'm sorry for ignoring you, for ignoring your warnings about the Queen and for… for even thinking about her off—"

Her jaw clicks as a sudden, genuine laugh interrupts. "That's what you think is bothering me?" Her face contorts before a second laugh follows, deeper and inexplicably _more_ than the first. "Just when I think… really, Emma?"

She blinks up at her, head slowly tipping sideways. If not that, then what? "I am so confused."

"I can tell." Regina chuckles, dismissively waving a hand when she tries to respond. "You don't listen, Emma. I know that. It would have been both naïve and unrealistic of me to think you'd heed my warnings about her." She snorts, then adds, "As for her offer, I am far more impressed you _haven't_ slept with her yet than I am upset you would consider it."

Now she's _really_ confused.

"Then what—"

"What bothers me," Regina continues, eyes narrowing in a way that tells Emma she should probably shut up for a bit; it is one warning she _will_ heed. "What bothers me is that I had to find out you broke up with Killian in the same conversation you admitted to wanting to have sex with me."

"Oh."

She wasn't the one who brought him up to begin with, but it had been the first question Regina asked her; _what about the pirate, Emma?_ Ugh. It didn't occur to her at the time because she was too busy defending herself against being judged but if Regina did reciprocate her feelings, then of course having that news dropped on her at the same time as learning her best friend is attracted to her would be upsetting.

But—

But, if she had considered that, then she'd also have had to consider the fact she wasn't the only one in a relationship. At which point, she'd also have asked herself what right Regina had to be upset with her. Yes, she admitted to wanting to have sex with the Queen but she never eluded to it being anything more than that and— _and_ the Queen isn't the one dating Robin dull-as-wood Hood, so what the hell?

"Emma?" Peering up at Regina from where her head had fallen into her hands, she cocks a brow. "What are you thinking?"

She breathes a laugh and brown eyes widen briefly. "What am I thinking?" She repeats, hands hitting her thighs as she straightens. "What I'm thinking is that you're mad at me despite the fact you're in a relationship with that wannabe lumberjack."

There's a flicker of something in those eyes before Regina looks away, the corner of a lip catching between teeth. In the ensuing silence, Emma stands and approaches her slowly, wondering if it means what she thinks it means. If Regina is feeling guilty, then there's something she hasn't told her, and it involves Robin.

Gingerly taking a seat next to her, Emma waits, and hopes.

Hopes it isn't bad news disguised as good.

Hopes she won't have to feign happiness for her friend when she will feel anything but.

Her breath hitches at the thought of _maybe I'm too late._ Had she waited too long? It's a thought that makes her want to laugh, but is it possible that Robin has more of a brain in his head than she first thought?

Is this growing, suffocating silence a prelude to finding out her best friend has already found the one she wants to spend the rest of her life with outside of their son?

The mere idea is heartbreaking.

"Regina…"

"He grabbed me," she murmurs softly as she turns toward her, their eyes meeting and holding as she explains, "When you were sacrificing yourself for me— he grabbed me and held onto me like I was all that mattered and it was in that moment that I realized he didn't… doesn't, not at the expense of you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll take being semi-predictable over quick burns and angst any day.


	11. Chapter 11

"Emma?" Blinking, she emerges from her thoughts to find Regina staring at her in concern. "Are you alright?"

"I'm just… just processing." Silently chiding herself, she puffs out a breath. Knowing she matters more to Regina than her supposed soul mate is— a little baffling, truthfully, but also… so much more than she expected. "I… you matter too, Regina. I hope my behavior over the past few days hasn't made you think—"

"Emma," she interjects, laughing softly. She places a hand on her thigh and squeezes when she says, "You sacrificed your soul for me. Your little flirtations with the Queen isn't going to make me forget that anytime soon."

"Right." Right. Emma nods. "But…"

"But?"

"But you should still know, you know?" If anyone in the world needs telling she matters more than her, then it's definitely Regina. "I know the whole actions speak louder than words thing is a big deal," she adds, "but I… I wanted to tell you."

Eyes warming with her smile, Regina replies, "Consider myself told."

 

* * *

 

 

"Ah, young love."

Emma jumps, heart leaping into her throat. She should be used to it by now but every time the Queen appears, she somehow manages to surprise her. "Aren't you like seventy at this point?"

"How dare you."

Emma grins. Serves her right for scaring the shit out of people. "You see this in your future too?" She questions, looking down at Regina whose head currently resides in her lap.

"No." She raises her head as the Queen gestures at them. "You and her are my future," she says. "I cannot see what has yet to happen."

Too tired to figure out if that made even a lick of sense, Emma asks, "Is it okay if I don't understand that?"

The Queen sniffs. "I imagine there are many things you don't understand."

Hand going to her chest, Emma feigns wounded. "Are you insulting me, Your Majesty?"

"Only a little." She sighs before offering them a woe filled glance and teasing, "I can't believe you chose her over me. I thought you were interesting."

"I chose you both," Emma corrects, mouth quirked. She always knew there was an inner child there somewhere inside Regina. "You said it yourself; this is your future."

"Using my words against me," the Queen drawls deadpan. "You'd have made a magnificent princess; crafty little wretches."

Lashes fluttering, Emma counters, "You love me."

"I've always said Fate was cruel."

A groan pulls their gazes from each other and back to Regina. Eyes closed, she mutters grumpily, "Some of us are trying to sleep."

Dark eyes roll. "Some of us are attempting to offer certain people a way home, but if you'd ra—"

Eyes flying open, she jerks up into a seated position. "You found a way?"

The Queen shrugs. "In spirit of this honesty thing you have going on, I confess to having known a way long before either of you appeared."

"What? How?"

"She's been spying on us," Emma supplies, immediately regretting it when Regina glares at her.

"You knew?"

She's about to protest when the Queen saves her from herself with a long suffering sigh. "Oh don't do that," she says, groaning. "You've both finally removed your heads from your backsides; don't ruin it now."

Ignoring her, Regina warns, still glaring, "You and I will be talking about this later."

"That won't be necessary." Producing a vial from some hidden pocket in her dress, the Queen holds it out to her in the palm of her hand. "Here."

Attention drawn from Emma for the moment, Regina takes the vial and turns it over in her hands. "What is it?"

Emma shifts until she can look at it over her shoulder, frowning the moment she does. To her, the thick peach liquid resembles a smoothie, and she glances up at the Queen, the same question in her eyes.

"A restoration potion. It will give you back all the memories you erased when you cast the curse." Taking a scroll from yet another hidden pocket, she throws it down beside them. "And that is your way home."

"My memories? I didn—"

"You did. I've seen it," she explains, waving dismissively as she turns to leave. "Drink it when you return to Storybrooke and you'll see that I speak truth."

As the door closes softly behind her, Emma falls back into the pillows adorning the head of the bed. Just when she was getting used to the place, and now they're all set to leave whenever they want. Knowing Regina, it'll be as soon as possible, as soon as—

"I suppose we better find Henry."

Yes. That. Emma sighs. "So that's it? We're leaving? Right now?"

Regina twists until she's facing her, eyes searching every inch as though someone has somehow cloned and replaced Emma in the minutes since she last turned around. Her expression would be hilarious if it weren't responsible for the gaping hole in the pit of Emma's stomach.

The longer she stares though, the softer the expression grows until there's something resembling the start of understanding in those eyes and Regina questions, "You don't want to?"

"It's… kind of nice here," Emma admits. Sure it's really green and full of trees, and little evil queens who like to piss off her best friend for shit and giggles, but – "No expectations or overbearing parents." Those were always a bonus, no matter the world. "That's not even taking into account the fact I'm still the new Dark One. You think everyone's going to welcome me back with open arms?"

"Honestly, I don't think it'll matter in the sense you're thinking of. You've been the Dark One for nearly a week now and you don't seem any different than from before— a little more impulsive and unfiltered, perhaps."

"But what if once my power starts growing, I turn into a power hungry maniac who murders people for kicks?"

"Like the Evil Queen, you mean?"

She frowns. Like Regina said, it's been nearly a week and she hasn't once seen the Queen kill anyone. "I was actually thinking of your mother," she confesses, biting her lower lip as Regina lets loose one of those deep throated laughs that send tingles down her spine. "You should do that more often."

Regina cocks a brow. "Murder people for kicks?"

"Maybe." Quickly pulling her leg away from the hand that ends up smacking the bedspread and causing Regina to pout, Emma grins. "I meant laugh— you should laugh more."

"I'll take that under advisement, Miss Swan."

"Good." Sitting up, she hesitates. She really doesn't want to leave yet, but she supposes it _is_ the adult thing to do; to keep her kid safe, to resume their normal, for them, lives and accept whatever consequences she must for the choices she's made.  "So… guess we go find the kid and go home?"

"No." Her eyes widening, Regina chuckles at her expression, then reasons coyly, "I have some revenge to plan first."

"You sure that's wise?"

"Probably not—" She shrugs with a grin. "— but it'll certainly be fun."


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was way slower than I was thinking. Unfortunately, I need to sleep like everybody else.

Following the shouting around a corner, Emma pauses at the sight of Regina standing outside the Queen's chamber, a decidedly impish smirk on her lips. She'd been on her way to the kitchens when she'd heard the slowly rising pitch of a voice. She hadn't known until this moment, but the Queen is screaming at someone and calling them all manner of colourful names. If the added sounds are any indication, she's also throwing things at whoever the other person is.

Inching forward, closer to Regina, she opens her mouth to ask what's going on when the door flies open suddenly. She jumps back and away from the naked man that comes tumbling through it, her eyes widening until she glances down and notices the cream.

As she starts to laugh, the Queen appears looking oddly less angry than she'd sounded. All three of them watch as the man scurries away, stumbling every so often into a wall before he vanishes around the same corner she'd come from, the pale cheeks of his ass an image she won't soon be forgetting no matter how much she might like to.

She wishes Regina had let her in on the plan so she could have been there from the start of it all.

"Your enamored guard, I take it?"

The Queen sniffs, eying her momentarily before she answers. "Yes." She turns her head towards Regina, eyes narrowing at the same time. "I may need to reconsider my stance on ruining your life."

Unfazed, Regina drawls, "You wouldn't be the first to try nor, I suspect, will you be the last."

With a scoff, the Queen rolls her eyes and questions, "Why are you still here? You have everything you need to return home."

"And miss an opportunity to pay you back for messing with us? I think not."

"Us?" She chuckles. "No, just you; I had every intention of bedding her had you continued squandering our second chance."

Brow furrowing, a light in her eyes, Regina repeats, "Second chance? Ro—"

That's as far as she gets before the Queen scowls and rounds on her, fireball in hand. "Speak that filth's name in my presence, and it will become your epitaph," she hisses.

Emma winces. "Whoa. Hey. I'm kind of fond of you both, so if you could not kill each other, that'd be super."

Clenching her fist, the Queen growls as she steps back and Regina huffs. Emma bites her lip before she says something stupid. Past, present or future; Regina is thoroughly too adorable for words when she pouts.

"Much better. And to answer your earlier question," she says to the Queen, "I didn't want to leave yet."

"Oh?" A brow rises in that way it does whenever Regina wants to appear smug. Somehow, the look is even more attractive on the Queen. "Miss me, will you?"

Emma chuckles. "Well yeah, but no I—"

"Am worried your parents will suffocate you with their idea of love and support, which is really just the two of them overcompensating for not being there for you as a child?"

Lips pursed to stop her from gaping like an idiot, Emma nods after a moment. The Queen hums, and then adds, "They will."

"Yeah."

Flashing her a small smile in understanding, the Queen looks to her future self and asks, "Is there a chance I missed you killing him? And if so, would it be possible for me to move the timetable on that forward and do it now?"

Emma appreciates the change in subject. Anyone else and they'd have badgered her to open up and talk about her supposed resentment of her parents. She doesn't resent them, she simply doesn't appreciate being treated like a child rather than the adult woman that she is. Well meaning or not, her mother's continuous hope that everything will be better and that anything _not_ like her is something that needs to be _fixed_ , as well her father's inability to _not_ go along with whatever her mother decides needs doing, is damn well infuriating.

"I'm afraid Wade is still alive and well."

"Pity," the Queen sighs, the sound long and mournful.

Watching them agree, their nods slow and simultaneous, Emma can't help but laugh at the two. She has the gist of what happened, but—"What exactly did he do?"

Nose wrinkling, the Queen replies, "You saw what he was— or rather, _wasn't_ wearing."

"Yeah, I saw it, but—"

"He presented himself to me like that when I entered the room," she interjects, explaining with a grimace. "He had the audacity to lie on my bed while doing so."

While surprising, Emma doesn't quite understand the disgust in her tone and she raises a brow at Regina in the hope of further explanation. Regina doesn't disappoint. "There is nothing I find quite so disturbing as people who find sex and food a good combination."

Glancing between them to confirm the reason, she shakes her head, their gazes practically daring her to disagree with them. She does. She can agree, on some level; there are people out there who definitely take their kinks a little too far. But she can also see the appeal in certain circumstances, and she says as much. "You've clearly not found the right kind of food."

"When I told her not to ruin it," the Queen says, "I meant you as well."

Emma smirks at her tone. _So pouty_. "You mean to tell me the thought of licking chocolate sauce off of me doesn't appeal to you?"

Lips parting in answer, they close before she says anything and a frown contorts her expression. Emma waits because not only is she genuinely curious, but the amused look on Regina's face is plenty distracting for the time being.

When the Queen finally finds her bearings she, partially, concedes. "That depends," she says, "what is chocolate sauce?"

The question demands she gape this time and she does, something cross between a gasp and cry escaping her throat. Torn between outrage and horror, she whines, "Regina."

"No."

"But it's a travesty!"

"As is your dress sense," she counters rudely.

Emma scoffs, hiding her smile behind an exaggerated scowl. "Give her some chocolate or I'm not coming home with you."

"You wouldn't."

"No," she admits, "but give it to her anyway. It's terrible you had to wait as long as you did to try it, you know I'm right." Sighing, Regina glares at her while holding out a hand, a kit-kat appearing in her palm. Emma grins. "Good choice."

"Your approval means everything to me," she deadpans, thrusting the chocolate at her younger self. "Here. You'll like it."

As the Queen delicately slides the candy from between her fingers, Emma shifts to stand beside Regina. She leans sideways into her and murmurs, "Sorry to ruin your revenge."

Regina sniffs dismissively. "I loath you."

Emma's indecision lasts _at least_ three seconds before she decides it'll do. "Close enough," she says aloud, leaning the last half inch and pressing a kiss to the corner of her mouth.


	13. Chapter 13

"She wanted to stay?"

The question comes as The Queen dematerializes in front of Regina's eyes. She rolls them and flicks her wrist. If it's a choice between the inquisition and watching Emma Swan stuff her face, she'll take her chances with the former, certain there will be innumerable opportunities for the latter in the coming years.

"You've met her parents," she drawls, appearing outside the stables. "Can you blame her?"

"You have Sunday dinners together."

Against her better judgment. Somehow, she always ends up in some form of argument with Charming about matters that don't pertain to them in their semi-cursed town. From the constitution, to religious freedom, to which political party they would choose had they been born in that world; the topics range from anything to everything and even when they begin on the same side, it rarely ever ends that way.

Regardless, she has her reasons, and not all of them revolve around their son as some might accuse. Though the fact he wanted it most of all is a significant enough reason on its own, it is not the main one she conceded to family night once a week. "We blamed the wrong person."

"She should have known better."

"Snow White was an oblivious little girl who's only want was that others be happy," she counters, not in the least fazed when the Queen scoffs at her in response. She questions, "If we could fall for mother's tricks, what hope did a ten year old have?"

The Queen waves dismissively, turning on her heel. "How unfortunate for her that it's a lesson I don't learn for another three decades."

Sighing, Regina follows her into the stables. The attitude might be grating, but she's not wrong. It took her an embarrassingly long time to realize that, while to a lesser extent; Snow White was a victim of her mother the same as she was. "Was I ever tempted to change it?"

"Frequently."

She nods. She had a feeling that was the case. She also has a feeling she knows the answer to the question she's about to ask, but she decides to ask it anyway on the off chance she might, possibly, be wrong. "What stopped me?"

Stopping by a familiar stall, the Queen faces her abruptly. "Them."

Regina looks away. The answer is exactly what she thought it would be. There will only ever be one _them_ to who the Queen can be referring. "You honestly believe she's our happiness?"

"As did you," she replies, "once upon a time."

Peering up at her, Regina's mouth twitches. "Then I met her," she deadpans.

"After you forgot her," the Queen growls. Shaking her head a moment later, she adds, "I saw what she did for us. If that isn't love—"

"I know."

Her jaw visibly clenches and she repeats, "You know?"

Regina inclines her head. She knows. She has for a while now. "I had every intention of talking sense into her when I brought her home," she admits.

Henry isn't the only one who's been paying attention. It was why she'd tried so hard to find Emma, and why she insisted on going alone. Emma has never done well with distractions, and despite his protests to the contrary; Killian Jones is exactly that. A distraction; nothing more, and so much less.

Eying her as if she doesn't quite believe her, the Queen turns, tongue clicking against teeth as she reaches out. Regina's heart leaps when a familiar muzzle moves to nudge slim fingers. "Knowing that would have saved some time."

"That's what you get for only spying on her," she retorts, coming to stand beside her.

She hesitates to touch but the Queen grabs her hand and replaces her own with it. "Oh, I spied on you occasionally," she admits, "and then you met the buffoon and I decided it would be better for the both of us if I stopped." At Regina's glance, she explains, "If I had to hear the word honour from a man so obviously lacking one more time, I was going to kill one of you, and I wasn't quite sure which."

Regina fights her immediate response, teeth catching her tongue before she angers her more volatile younger self by reminding her that he is their soul mate. She has never understood why she insists on defending the man, but she seems to be doing it more and more lately. First it was David, then Emma, then Henry, then Emma again. Now, her instinct is to argue with _herself_ even while knowing they are all right. She didn't want to see it at first, but now that she does and she's opened her eyes to the possibility of _more_ , she doesn't want to go back to being blinded by a fate she isn't wholly convinced was hers to begin with.

"He was the soul mate of a frightened girl who didn't know any better than to trust meddlesome little moths," the Queen adds. She steps back, away from the stall, and gestures for Regina to take her place. "I heard what she said to you."

Doing so, Regina rubs Rocinante behind the ear as she processes the words, then frowns. "Tinkerbelle?"

The Queen hums an affirmative. "She said you ruined his life. If you— we had walked into that tavern, not only would he never have met his True Love, but we would have been hunted to the very ends of the realm by Leopold's men, and executed the morning after we'd been found."

Recognizing the argument as one she's heard before, Regina smiles warmly. It is true and it's something she has thought about ever since Neverland and her conversation with the fairy, but she has spoken of it only once, and only to one person who had responded in an eerily similar way. "You've been talking to Emma."

"Of course I have." The Queen huffs. She grumbles childishly, "It's all I seem to want to do these days."

Regina smirks. She can't count the number of times she's berated herself for that very thing over the years. "Irritating, isn't it?"

"Extremely."

Turning back to Rocinante and staring into those deep, seemingly bottomless eyes, she sighs a second time, giving in to his silent plea as she conjures an apple in the palm of her hand and holds it out to him. "They're getting a divorce you know," she says for lack of anything else to say.

"True Love isn't a personality," the Queen murmurs. "I'm not surprised Marian finds him as dull as I do."

"You've definitely been talking to our son."

"The boy is smart," she counters.

Pride fills Regina's chest. "He is."

"Think he gets it from her?"

She laughs then, nodding her acceptance of the intended slight as the Queen flashes her a grin. Playing along, she says, "I think underneath all that blonde, there exists an extraordinary mind screaming to get out, yes."

A throat clearing demands their attention at the entrance of the stables where Emma raises a brow at the Queen and nods to Regina. "See what I have to put up with?"

The Queen smiles. "Hello, dear. Finished raiding my kitchen, have you?"

"For now." Emma shrugs and saunters over to them. "What's going on?"

Mirroring the shrug, the Queen supplies, "I was thinking we might go for a ride."

"Can I come?"

Her brow rises. "Can you ride?"

"I can try…" Emma wrinkles her nose, appearing to change her mind. "Or," she quickly adds, "I can cuddle up to one of you."

The Queen clucks her tongue and waves in the direction of Regina. "You'll be riding with her."

"Scared?"

"Of myself, who has had thirty years to become more powerful and even more unreasonable than I am on my worst days? Adorable as you are…" The Queen smiles sweetly and pats Emma affectionately on the cheek. "You are the only fool here, Princess."


End file.
